


Looking to the Future

by levitatethis



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Reality, Angst, Future Fic, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-17
Updated: 2010-05-17
Packaged: 2017-10-09 12:44:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/87635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levitatethis/pseuds/levitatethis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the future Mohinder attempts to make a life for himself after the battle with The Company, but the past is never far behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Looking to the Future

It is an unseasonably warm New Years.

Last year it had been unseasonably cold.

When it is too cold the newspapers and talking heads insist that global warming is a hoax perpetrated on the public by left wing tree huggers to collapse the world economy.

This December the stories are about the catastrophic hand of the human race in bringing the earth to its knees.

With a slight chuckle at the headline Mohinder folds the newspaper in half and tucks it under his arm. He heads home along the bustling sidewalk in a light winter jacket that has sufficed this year, no hat or gloves necessary.

To be able to smile over such things, as horrible as it is, has been years in the making. It is not that he has forgotten everything from that other tumultuous time; rather stepping away from it has saved his sanity, metaphorically speaking.

It has been five years that he has called London home.

It was six years ago when he was able, with much forcible backing, to renegotiate his role with The Company. No longer an active operative, he still works with them but in a freelance capacity, mostly using their facilities for research purposes.

Other than that he provides one on one, or small group, tutorials for university science students.

It is not an ideal life but it is a good one.

Negotiations had come at the end of a frightening four year battle to "clean house", was how Peter had put it, in an attempt to restructure and reorganize The Company. Being inside the mysterious organization at the time, Mohinder had played a crucial role during which his life was not only constantly at risk but the lives of countless others who depended on him.

More than once his loyalty had been questioned, but in the end he had played his promised role. Up to now there had been no notably negative ramifications.

The experience had been horrific, awe inspiring and humbling. He was never cut out for that work, although Hiro's commendation at the end of it all had been heartfully received.

A toll had been taken on him, something that was lost on none of them.

In fact the act of negotiating him into a living somewhat removed from all the chaos, into something much more sustainable as a life, had not come at his own suggestion. Rather it had been an act of compassion bestowed upon him.

He had left much behind; the toughest was walking away from Molly. With so many friends and ties he simply could not drag her away to start anew all over again. She had already been through that. It had taken just over a year to not feel like he had let down another sister. That reprieve had only come after a surprise visit from Molly intended to quell his misgivings. It had worked.

It is not only that London is now home. The truth is he has not set foot back on American soil since leaving and he feels no desire to.

Life is calm, a remarkable realization given everything he has survived.

He has a handful of acquaintances who provide comfort to his life given they know next to nothing of his past or current dabblings of research. To them he is simply another traveler who has settled down in England trying to make a life for himself as a teacher of sorts. Mohinder likes that.

He has not seen any of his friends, those who would know him at his best and worst, strongest and weakest; those who would lay down their lives for him and those he would trade his own life for, since Peter three years earlier.

************ ********** ********** ********** **********   
**  
_~Three Years Back~   
_  
"Peter?"

"Hey Mohinder," replies a groggy Peter as he rubs the sleep from his eyes while sitting on the floor outside the front door of Mohinder's flat.

Standing up Peter closes the distance between them and gives Mohinder a hug.

"Thought I'd drop in," Peter continues stepping back.

"Did you literally _fly_ here?" Mohinder asks with a small smile beginning to light up his face.

"You could say that," Peter kids.

Giving themselves a few moments to take in the sight of each other after so much time apart Mohinder suggests they go in. Unlocking his door Peter is invited into a realm Mohinder has purposely tried to keep separate from his past for as long as time and circumstances would allow.

Peter makes a mental imprint of obscure details as he looks around.

There are shelves of books along the walls, the smell of spices emanates from the kitchen, colourful cushions sit upon the chocolate brown sofa in the living room; Mohinder watches him carefully while removing the shoulder bag he has been carrying.

"I--,"   
"Noah says hi."

They both speak at once invoking a mutual laugh.

Mohinder responds to Peter's statement.

"Somehow I doubt that, unless it is with a bullet."

With a lopsided grin Peter says, "He actually wanted me to use a poison tipped arrow."

Mohinder flashes Peter a grin the empath has missed more than he can remember. Immediately the weight Peter has felt since deciding to visit Mohinder is lifted.

"Seriously Mohinder, he doesn't hate you the way--,"

"He once did," Mohinder finishes Peter's sentence.

"We both know he'll never forgive you," Peter sighs, "But he understands better than most what you've gone through. I don't think he holds it all against you, especially considering his own part."

It is the closest thing to a consolation and Mohinder is more than willing to accept it.

"Would you like something to drink?" he offers his guest.

"I'm not thirsty," Peter answers.

Mohinder gestures to the kitchen table and Peter follows his lead to sit down. A heavy tension settles around them until Mohinder finally breaks it.

"I'm sorry."

Peter says nothing but there is a sudden sadness in his eyes when he looks over at Mohinder.

"I should have come to the funeral," Mohinder confesses.

"I understand you couldn't come back," Peter tries to sound sympathetic.

"There is no excuse, Peter," Mohinder interrupts. "I should have been there. I know how much Helena meant to you."

Peter rubs his head with his hand before quietly saying, "She knew the danger. I knew the danger. But I still wanted her with me and she accepted the risk. Of course neither of us thought that our time would be so limited."

Mohinder watches Peter speak still in grief. He reaches out and gently squeezes Peter's right arm lying across the table.

"I've been a bad friend to you," Mohinder sadly admits.

Looking back at Mohinder, Peter says, "We've all, _all of us_, made decisions that didn't always work out the way we had hoped. Maybe we need to start cutting each other some slack."

Peter recognizes the sadness in Mohinder's eyes. This was not the intention of his visit and he wants Mohinder to understand that there is no grudge here.

"I forgive you."

Mohinder's eyes react in surprise before settling.

"Thank you," he says.

For an hour they play catch up, sharing news of the people who fill them. Peter hears about people he has never met and Mohinder hears about those who once made up his most immediate social circle.

Despite the apparent disconnect they both try to lessen the distance and to some degree it works.

Eventually Peter brings up the main reason for his visit. With some potential problems on the horizon he is curious if Mohinder has thought about returning to the States. As Peter phrases it, Mohinder's "help would be greatly appreciated."

Mohinder is clear with an emphatic "No."

He informs Peter that they no longer need him, at least not in the capacity they once did. Mohinder admits he would only serve to be a weakness to their side. In any case, he reminds Peter, he now has a life in London that he does not want to leave behind, but he would be willing to do any research here that Peter feels would help. It is the one concession that Mohinder okays himself to make.

Peter does not force the argument. Instead he sits back and contemplates the man sitting across from him.

"Get out of my head Peter," Mohinder mocks.

Peter laughs and says, "You _are_ happy."

The statement of truth requires no response. Again their eyes hold onto each other, but now there is amusement behind them.

"Wow," Peter finally says, "things have changed."

Mohinder raises a quizzical eyebrow.

Peter continues, "The entire time I've been here he hasn't crossed your mind once."

Mohinder instantly knows whom Peter is referring to and he quickly looks down, pretending to examine his hands.

"Why would I be thinking of him?" Mohinder softly asks but the exasperation in his voice cannot be missed.

"You used to think about him a lot. Then again why wouldn't you?"

Annoyance suddenly flares up in Mohinder's tone.

"What are you saying Peter? What are you trying to get at? Why would you expect him to be on my mind after all this time? Is my life so pathetic that nothing else could possibly be of interest to me? I'd like to think that after three years I've moved on."

Peter, caught off guard by Mohinder's outburst, refuses to cower to the raised voice.

"Why would you be thinking of him? Oh, I don't know Mohinder, let's see," Peter counters. "Maybe it's because he killed your father and messed you around. I wasn't the only one of your friends he tried to murder at some point. Maybe it's because he stood with us for a time when there was power in numbers. Maybe it's because, despite you pleading with him not to, he still killed Elle. Or maybe it's because he was the one who came to the rest of us and insisted you be given a chance at a life. He was the first one to see how tough the fight had been on you. He's the one who helped draw up the damn terms! Or maybe it's because he did this to you."

In a lightning fast movement Peter grabs a hold of Mohinder's right arm and pushes up the t-shirt sleeve. Rippled skin from a badly healed burn marks the bicep and shoulder. Mohinder jerks back, almost jumping out of the chair.

The anger in Peter's voice dissolves into a calm plea.

"Mohinder, let me take this away. Don't keep punishing yourself "

"No. It's a reminder for me. I need it."

Peter sighs in frustrated resignation. Standing up he announces it is time for him to go. He tells Mohinder to rethink visiting as there are lots of people who would love to see him again. Mohinder's unemotional "definitely" has all the falsity of a stock answer.

Mohinder looks at Peter's turned back as he begins to walk towards the door.

"Peter?"

When Peter turns around he finds Mohinder looking nervous and apologetic.

"Thank you for coming. It's always good to see you."

The truth of the statement, the sincerity in the spoken words, brings another lopsided grin to Peter's face, matched by Mohinder's.

Peter approaches Mohinder and, doing his best Nathan impression, places both hands on Mohinder's shoulders.

"Come and see us sometime. I miss my friend."

Mohinder says nothing but offers a slight nod of his head. It is an honest response to a heartfelt invitation.

That is how they say goodbye.

************ ********** ********** ********** **********   
**  
Like any city you can walk the streets of London without running into someone you know. It may sound callous but Mohinder enjoys the public anonymity without having to look over his shoulder.

For the fourth year in a row he has been invited to New Years Eve celebrations at Cheryl and Mark's place. For the fourth year in a row he has politely declined, preferring to bring in the New Year on his own.

Mohinder cannot say exactly why he does not go out, whether it is that he does not feel like it or that it would be rude in some way to Molly, Maya and Matt whom he has left behind. He likes to think it is because he needs the time to reflect on the year gone by while simultaneously envisioning the upcoming one.

The one thing he looks forward to most is that first wish of happy New Year. By way of a long distance phone call it is always Molly, always on time, filled with laughter and hope covering up the melancholy at not being face to face.

Mohinder is rushing with some last minute grocery shopping. Crossing the street he makes brief eye contact with the wave of strangers heading by him.

There is a split second when he thinks he is met with familiar eyes. A turn of his head only reveals nameless backs and Mohinder nearly trips over his own feet.

It has been awhile since that last happened, although in the last three weeks it has happened a handful of times. Mohinder weighs the possibilities that it is either an acquaintance or that Molly has put ideas in his head.

************ ********** ********** ********** **********   
**  
_~Seven Days Earlier~_

"Hello Matt?"

"Mohinder! How you doing man?"

"Very well. Merry Christmas and Happy Hannakah."

Matt lets out a raucous laugh.

"Molly has decided on Winter Solstice this year."

"How very pagan of her," Mohinder jokes. He can hear the chorus of voices rushing into each other on the other end of the phone line and for a second feels the loneliness of his own empty flat.

"How is everything going?" Mohinder asks and he and Matt engage in a brief catch up.

He can tell that Matt is holding back information by the hesitation in the words he uses and the lengthy pauses at the start of each sentence. Mohinder surmises that his decision to leave and stay gone has placed him on Matt's "need to know" list; which is to say that Matt figures there is nothing Mohinder needs to know concerning any Company related work.

It is a wall that now exists between them and although Mohinder feels bad about being the cause of such a gulf he also does not have terrible regrets. He wonders if that is something else Matt holds against him.

Deciding to change the subject to something acceptable for both men, Mohinder enquires about Molly. Matt informs him that Molly has been perusing university brochures and that he would be better suited for her to discuss her options with.

An unclear goodbye leads to Matt calling Molly to the phone.

"Molls! There's some posh sounding foreign guy asking for you!"

Mohinder stifles a laugh.

"Mohinder!" Molly shouts exuberantly into the phone.

"Happy Winter Solstice Molly."

"Thank you, mon frere."

He can hear the grin in her voice and infectiously his own mouth turns upwards at the end.

"I hear you're looking at universities?"

There is a pause and Mohinder can hear that Molly's hand is covering the receiver.

"We can talk about that another time Mohinder, just hold on," she suddenly says.

More muffled sounds follow and then nothing.

"Mohinder?"

"Molly, are you okay?"

He guesses that she is now alone having extricated herself from the celebratory commotion in the other room.

"I'm fine. I just…"

"What is it Molly?"

"Have you seen him recently? "

"Seen whom?" Mohinder asks but his heart is already starting to beat faster in anticipation of the name not being mentioned.

"The boogieman," Molly says sarcastically.

There is a second in which Mohinder almost laughs. He knows that Molly knows the "boogieman's" name. She has called him by his self appointed name for years. She only refers to him as the boogieman when she is annoyed or irritated.

"No, I haven't. Why?" asks Mohinder.

Another long pause fills the space between them.

"Don't be mad. I only did it because Micah dared me to."

"Molly."

The sternness in Mohinder's voice is undeniable and Molly spills the truth quickly.

"We wanted to see where he was. London. He was – still is – in London. He has been near where you live…possibly the apartment but I was a bit haywire at the time – don't ask – when I was looking so I can't say for sure."

This time it is Mohinder who says nothing. Thoughts that have not crossed his mind in years come racing in droves. Tightness constricts his chest.

"Damn it, Mohinder, I'm sorry I should have told you when I first looked--,"

"No, no, no," Mohinder tries to sooth her worries. "I'm glad you told me now. He has made no contact with me. I understand your concern, but if…he wanted to…show up, that is, he would have. He is probably here for something else."

"Okay…I just thought--,"

"I haven't seen him or spoken to him in six years, Molly. I imagine we've both moved on with our lives…no longer desiring to torture the other."

Molly lets out a small fake sounding laugh at Mohinder's attempted joke. Another pause is all she needs to change the subject.

"I miss you Mohinder."

Tears spring to his eyes without warning.

"I miss you too Molly. So much. I'm sorry I--,"

"Please don't apologize, Mohinder. I _do_ understand. Anyway I've saved almost half the money for a plane ticket to visit you. Matt says he can help out with the other half."

A combination of relief and happiness hits Mohinder.

Jokingly he says, "You could always ask Peter for a lift and then save your money for shopping."

"That's what I said but Matt is all 'a penny saved' and stuff."

"Well I look forward to seeing you…and hearing from you in a few days!"

"Me too. Mohinder?"

"Yes, Molly?"

"Be careful."

************ ********** ********** ********** **********   
**  
Mohinder attempts to open the front door of his apartment complex while not simultaneously losing his grip on the grocery bags in his possession. Just as the door seems about to slam shut in his face, thereby resulting in a domino effect of the bags falling out of his hand and spilling the somewhat lonely contents of a person all by himself on New Years, a hand appears out of nowhere to force it open.

"Thanks so much," Mohinder says graciously for the unexpected assistance.

A split second later finds him at a total loss for words.

"Glad to help, Mohinder."

Mohinder is not sure why he is so surprised. Molly had warned him after all. Yet seeing Sylar again has left him somewhat spellbound.

Six years apart following the tentative end to the fight with The Company, five years with the subtle fading of once crystal memories, four years with the alteration of once unforgettable conversations, three years with which his new life officially took over and this man had been locked away in an untouched part of Mohinder 's mind; but right now none of that seems to matter.

Sylar looks older to Mohinder's curious eye but so, he imagines, must he. They had not been like children all that time ago, but young men at the start of a journey. Now they look like men in the anticipated middle, unsure how much more lies beyond the present day but hopeful that tomorrow will not be the end.

"It's been awhile. Funny running into you here," Sylar muses.

"I'm sure," Mohinder manages to get out with some sense of control over the emotions he reveals. "What are you doing here Gabriel?"

Sylar scoffs, still holding the door open while Mohinder awkwardly holds onto his grocery bags. Mohinder is the only person Sylar allows to call him by his given name. For Sylar the name is weakness. But there came a time during the battle with The Company when the only way Mohinder could reconcile working with him was to call him by a name that did not conjure up cold blooded murder or a false conman posing as a friend.

"There's some stuff going on that I'm taking care of. I'm sure Peter has filled you in," Sylar cryptically explains.

Mohinder reads through Sylar's riddling speech. He infers that Sylar is unsure whom he still keeps in touch with on a regular basis and is fishing for information that Mohinder may be privy to.

Mohinder shifts the bags in his hands and says, with a shake of his head, "I don't really keep up with all of that anymore; at least with regards to specifics. Different field of focus now. There's nothing I can tell you. Then again there's nothing I would tell you, so you see I'm afraid you've wasted your visit."

"Doubtful."

Mohinder instinctively smiles at the response. Sylar's eyes, familiar eyes, are regarding his with such – recognition. Without any premeditation or reason as to why, the very request catches Mohinder off guard; Mohinder extends an invitation to Sylar to come up to his flat for a brief stop.

The question seems to break whatever unknown spell surrounds them because immediately Sylar seems distracted, eyes looking about as if he would like to be anywhere but there. He tells Mohinder that he has no time to stop, referencing something about business, Adam and heading back to New York.

"Of course," is all that Mohinder can say in response. "Well then…"

And with a nod to each other Mohinder crosses through the doorway and Sylar heads off down the street.

Mohinder's eyes follow Sylar's form getting smaller as it moves further away. He is surprised to feel a sense of disappointment at his invite being rebuked, but he has no idea why.

************ ********** ********** ********** ************

Mohinder pulls the last of the frozen appetizers out of the oven. He glances towards the muted television in the living room where images of silenced New Years revelers smile and drunkenly sing along with some random Top 40 pop princess across the screen from Trafalgar Square.

He has the radio on the ledge between the kitchen and the living room turned up, preferring the songs and limited chatter to the inane television hosts who insist on making witless jokes about the year just gone by.

Soon he settles on the sofa popping a food niblet into his mouth and waiting for the countdown.

A knock at the door nearly makes him jump. Glancing at the clock above the television he sees it is 11:45pm.

Curiousity labours each step towards the door. To say the guest is unexpected is an understatement.

"Syl—Gabriel?"

A smirk makes its way to Sylar's face at the name slip.

"I'm here in time right?" Sylar asks.

The confused expression on Mohinder's face is the only response.

"For New Years -- the countdown. It's rude not to invite an old friend in Mohinder."

Clearly caught off guard, Mohinder steps aside to let Sylar enter his flat. Sylar lets out a joking whistle as his eyes survey the place. Taking off his jacket he heads straight to the living room, throwing the coat on an arm chair. Mohinder cautiously follows.

"Still doing the radio and TV bit," Sylar comments sitting down on the sofa.

"What? Wait, how do you know that?"

Sylar ignores the question, instead eating a cheese puff. Mohinder goes to the kitchen. He is certain Sylar can hear his heart pounding as he goes through the motions of pouring him a drink. With no alcohol on hand he brings Sylar cranberry juice instead. Sylar smiles at the drink and Mohinder settles in on the sofa next to him.

Not a word is spoken between them. A few sideways glances instead verbalize the uncertainty yet strange sense of ease between them.

The countdown begins, bringing to a close another year. Soundless shouts of Happy New Year flood the screen, brilliant happy faces sharing an overwhelming feeling of joy and hope with those around them.

The radio emits the traditional, _"Should auld acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind? Should auld acquaintance be forgot and days of auld lang syne?..."_ across the quiet of the flat.

Sylar turns to Mohinder.

"Happy New Year, Mohinder."

Mohinder rests contemplative eyes on Sylar.

"Happy NewYear, Gabriel."

They both look away and minutes between them are filled with only the sounds of the radio. It is Sylar who speaks first, his tone suddenly condescending.

"A quaint place, for a quaint life, huh Mohinder."

The statement alters the growing mood between them. The new feeling conjured up, which is actually an old one for them, is one Mohinder understands much better. When it comes to Sylar, antagonism is something Mohinder knows how to do.

"It suits me just fine," Mohinder states firmly.

Sylar looks at him and then drifts his eyes around the living room.

"Of course it does," Sylar says. "I mean what you were doing before, when there was significant purpose to your life; well all you could do was try – badly, mind you, but at least you can say you tried."

"What are you talking about?"

"It's okay, really. Not everyone is cut out for greatness. Some people thrive on the mundane," Sylar answers.

He gestures to the people on the TV screen and then back to Mohinder as he continues, "There was a time when I thought you were different from them. But _this life_ seems to do you good."

"Gabriel, would you mind getting to the point or are you trying to use reverse psychology on me?" Mohinder says in irritation.

"There's no one for you to worry about and no one for you to concern yourself with. You can ignore the growing Troubles that people you once knew are preparing for--,"

"Troubles? What the hell are you talking about?"

"It's not even that you have to pretend the Troubles that are brewing don't exist since you've made the incredibly valiant choice to know nothing about them in the first place. Ignorance is bliss in your case, Mohinder. It must be nice for you to be able to wash your hands of it."

Anger burns up Mohinder's eyes. He does not know the specifics of what Sylar is referring to and he has worked hard for the life that, in a few minutes, Sylar has already managed to rip at the seams. Molly's scared face flashes in his mind at the thought of something bad heading her way.

Moby's _My Weakness_ starts up on the radio and slowly takes over the flat.

"I think you should leave," Mohinder finally states.

Standing up Mohinder takes a few steps away when he catches their reflection in the wall mirror. The glance may be quick but Mohinder is not mistaken.

Sylar is watching his turned back but there is no malice in his eyes. The coldness is gone. What has replaced it is concern, uncertainty; remorse. He sees Sylar stand up and, putting on his coat, begin to follow him out.

At the door Mohinder begins to open it but partway Sylar reaches over his left shoulder with his left arm and forces it shut.

Mohinder does not spin around to confront him. Rather he stays facing the door; Sylar remains behind him with his arm still cutting across their space keeping the door closed.

Mohinder can feel the heat emanating from Sylar's body, the warmth of his breath hitting the back of Mohinder's neck.

Slowly Mohinder turns around, caught between the door and Sylar. Their eyes latch on to each other; Mohinder's try to translate the unreadable message that Sylar's are awkwardly trying to convey.

Keeping his left hand stretched out against the door, Sylar brings his right hand to Mohinder's face. Unwavering intent encompasses the force of the touch as Sylar places his palm flat against Mohinder's cheek. The contact is neither painful nor gentle, residing somewhere in the wordless in between.

Mohinder does not feel panicked. He feels lost, like a picture he has been looking at, convinced it is one thing, is suddenly something else entirely. Sylar's hand pressed against his skin is at once bewildering and an anchor keeping him from spinning out of his mind.

The line between their eyes unbroken, Sylar lightly shakes his head and in a low voice says, "Mohinder? "

The sound of Sylar's voice saying _his_ name _that _way grabs a hold of Mohinder in way he has never experienced before.

He does not know what Sylar is trying to do or say but what scares Mohinder most is that he does not think he will resist. The astonishing epiphany that reveals itself to Mohinder is that he does not want to stop Sylar; not in this stretched out expanse of time, not with the pleading want in Sylar's eyes, not with his own_ maybe, just maybe_ clawing at the back of his mind.

_My Weakness_ circles around them, feeding off of their deep breaths timed in unison, swirling through the heat jumping off of their bodies.

Sylar slightly moves forward.

The ringing phone thunders in their ears.

Mohinder's eyes dart over Sylar's shoulders; while Sylar's never leave Mohinder. Neither man moves at first, ignoring the unwelcome interruption.

Another two rings and Sylar drops his hand from the door. Mohinder notices a momentary glimpse of disappointment in his expression as he then drops his other hand from Mohinder's face. Sylar's eyes fall to the floor and he steps aside. Mohinder takes in all the angles, simplistic and complex, of every movement wordlessly lay bare.

Mohinder steps forward and turns his face towards Sylar's as he passes. Sylar's quick glance up finds Mohinder's eyes searching his, no more than an inconsequential space between them.

In an attempt to clear his head Mohinder steps quickly to the kitchen and picks up the phone.

"Happy New Year Mohinder!"

A grin appears on his face at the sound of Molly's voice.

"Thank you Molly," he says turning around to look at Sylar.

The front door is wide open and Sylar is gone. Mohinder barely hears Molly's chattering.

"Sorry I didn't call right at midnight but Matt got us totally delayed. He ran into Audrey, of all people, and I could barely drag him away. I was like, 'You know it's a tradition,' and he was all, 'just give me a minute.' Honestly, some people."

Molly's laugh echoes in Mohinder's ears as he walks with the phone to the door. Stepping out into the hallway he looks both ways, even over the banister to the stairwell, but Sylar is gone. Mohinder steps back into this flat and closes the door behind him; resting his hand against it.

He shuts his eyes to try and focus his chaotic mind, flickerings of images and words skip along in no particular order with no definitive meaning.

"Mohinder?"

"Ah…yes," Mohinder says opening his eyes to the empty rooms around him. There were so many who gave so much, took on so much, so that he could walk away.

"Molly, I was thinking…maybe it's time I visited you instead." 


End file.
